


Can't this all just be a bad dream - The 64th Games

by dontfeedthewolfy



Series: Past Hunger Games [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: 64th Hunger Games, Best Friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, District 11, Hunger Games, Love, M/M, Original Character(s), POV First Person, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Poverty, Psychological Trauma, Tributes, Twins, and you just might have to, au kinda, because it still sucks, but mostly everything is the same, dreams of rebellion, in a sense that some of the rules of the world are altered slightly, kind of, past hunger games, pre-katniss, the kind you would sacrifice anything for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:40:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontfeedthewolfy/pseuds/dontfeedthewolfy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dagda is a child of the poorest of citizens of District Eleven. He has spent much of his life struggling but finding happiness in the people around him. His best friends, a pair of twins. In fact, he found what most people wait a whole life time for, people he could love and who loved him unconditional. But that kind of love is a liability in a world like theirs. When reaping day becomes everything he has always feared, his world is turned on it's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reap the seeds you sew

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there! I’m Isaac. You are about to read one of the fan based works in my collection. I am a LGBTQA+ writer. Generally I choose to ignore canon and acquire representation. I try to do this in the most natural means possible. Perhaps this isn’t as prevalent in the fanfic community but queer representation is minimal. So as a member of this community and an aspiring novelist I want to write from these character perspectives, and give my readers the chance to see aspects of them selves in there favorite fandoms (and eventually within my own original worlds), or at least give a different voice than what is usually heard. I like the idea of telling stories about queer characters in which their gender identity or sexuality is not the driving force of the story. They are characters that happen to be queer not characters that their plot centers around them being queer. 
> 
> As always I enjoy your feed back greatly and thank you for reading the things that seem to keep pouring out of my head. If you enjoy this you can follow me on tumblr ( www.queerrainbowwarrior.tumblr.com ) and twitter( @Qrainbowwarrior ) for updates regarding up coming works, both fanfic and original (as well as my ongoing personal dribble). 
> 
>  
> 
> This is an ongoing series exploring past hunger games. If you can’t tell from my other stories (or have never read anything by me -in which case welcome welcome I hope you enjoy the ride and please for the love of all that is good, keep your seat belts fastened at all times-) I love my queer characters. That being said, the hunger games world isn’t exactly set up to make same sex romances very easy, what with the one male, one female tribute situation. While I know I can (and will) write tribute/mentor or even tales with in the districts, I want to have the chance to hear queer stories within the arena. My solution is within the context of my tales, which will be contained within the past hunger games before the reaping of Katniss, two tributes regardless of gender are reaped at random. All other rules apply but for the sake of artistic license I am ignoring that there should be one male and one female.

I known now, without a doubt, that my parents did everything they could have to make the years before I turned twelve as care free as possible. After that, I would spend every moment worrying about being reaped or any of the other thousands of threats in district eleven. They must have known that.I mean I am an only child of a family among the poorest in the district and tessera was an inevitable reality. 

Still there was only so much they could do to shelter me from the waiting jaws of life in Eleven. Even without a fear of the reaping, things weren’t idyllic. Looking back though, I can see the valor in their efforts. I hesitate to say my childhood was a happy one, but it was pleasant given the grander picture. I mean yes, sure I was hungry ninety percent of the time, but that was just the way things were. Going to bed with a growling stomach was neither uncommon or avoidable.

I had just turned seven when I took up working in the fields. My assignments weren’t the kind that would break a body. No they’d save those until I had at least a few years of the muscle puberty was sure to grant me. 

It was a day like any other day, that I was walking through the fields spraying a pesticide shipped in from the Capital. The winter hadn’t been a cold one and bugs swarmed like an ancient plague. The delicate strawberries the Capital loved so much were at risk and they just couldn’t have that now could they. I was walking with my head down, watching my feet glide over the sun bleached ground and I crash square into another body. To be more specific two bodies.Tavish and Theo, twins a year younger than myself, and they were knelt weeding. All three of us crashed into heap on the dusty plain. The rest, as they say, is history. 

It didn’t taken long for me and the twins to become inseparable. When the work day ended, hours were spent together. We found a home in the shade of the orchards. 

Summer days were the most pleasant, as we had more time together before the day would die. More often than not, our parents, who were also friends, allowed us to stay the night at one home or the other. Community was all we had to cling on to and being together made us so happy. In a dark world like ours, happiness was prolonged as long as possible. 

Work was hard, but the time with my twins was enough to make life something worth living, and I couldn’t imagine anything I wouldn’t do for them. 

By the time we hit our teens the overnight stays became less accepted until they were banned altogether. Three nearly grown boys sleeping in the same bed was frowned upon. That didn’t keep me from jumping through the window once the sky had darken. As the years went by, we found that time apart was almost unbearable, and sleep was impossible alone. 

Theo was always the pursuer, not that I ever feigned him off. It seemed like a natural extension of the dynamic, still I couldn’t help but notice the sideways glances from Tavish. Theo and I were fire, we burned with fight and passion to make trouble. Tavish would listen as we went on tirades about the Capitol in private. He was the glue that held it all together, without him we would have burned brightly for a time, but in the end fire burns out. 

Tavish had a way with words, and an imagination that compared to none. He could paint a world using only the simplest art of story telling. He painted his vision of the world in a way that Theo and I could hold on to. It was most obvious in the games we played. Theo and I made enemies of the Capitol, for it was clear to us even in our youth that it was oppression from those in power that made our life so hard. How could we not long for a better life when Tavish could make the image of it so clear in their heads?

——————————————

 

I pulled my wiry body up the trellises outside the twins window. It was open, as usual, and the bright-eyed twins perched on the edge of the small bed. They were waiting on me, and why shouldn’t they be. It was certain that once the sun had fallen beneath horizon that I would climb through the splintering window seal. 

I felt a smile pull up the corners of my lips when I spotted them. “Took you long enough,” Theo spat, tho the faux hostility wasn’t enough to even get me reeled up… not tonight.

The room itself, much like the house that contained it, was nothing much. Four blank sun bleached wall with pealing paint, and the barest of furniture. In the corner was a small chest of drawers. On it sat an old oil lamp, a necessity when the power is so unreliable, and inside would be the scant amount of clothes that the twins had collected over the years. Only a few feet beside it was the bed that the three of us had been sharing for years. Looking back, I have no idea how it held up under our weight. Even with just Tavish and Theo atop it, the center creaked and bowed. 

Theo pulled me in by the shoulders. A hot pain bloomed in my stomach as the broken wood of the window scraped against me. He didn’t seem to notice how I winced. His recklessness extend out from himself to everyone within ‘his’ world. I couldn’t call him cruel, because that wasn’t at all it, It was more that he was wild, an untamed raw creature that anyone who chose to be near him simply had to adapt. Once inside, he quickly deposited my weight onto the bed. 

Tavish’s eyes darted to the small dots of red stating out against my white shirt. In an instant he had the hem of it pulled up to take a closer look. He didn’t speak, didn’t chastise his brother. Instead, he diligently got to work doing the one thing he did best, cleaning up Theo’s mess. The tips of his finger brushed over the pin pricks of blood and his hands gently pulled the splinter from the tender skin. Even though I wouldn’t admit it then, the feeling of Tavish’s soft skin on mine tangled knots in my nerves. 

All pain aside, tonight was a night to savor. It didn’t take us long to quietly curl up in bed, our bodies nestled into one another. I told myself that I would count ever second. For all I knew this could be the last night to hold them. I was determined not to mess any of it. However, as I laid there with a restless head laying on each of my shoulders a cursed light cut through the grimy window. Dawn. Today was the reaping and worry for myself, for the boys I loved instantly dominated my thoughts. Not that it hadn’t been a fixture there for weeks, arguably years. Next year would be the worst, when I would be free of the reaping and they would not, if in fact we made it that far. I did my best to recoil future worry from my mind. The only way to take things was one day at a time. As it stood we weren’t even a promised tomorrow. 

Kissing them each on the forehead I whispered “See you in the square.” Theo’s eyes fluttered just slightly as I slipped away as silently as I could from the ratty old bed. I would have to be gone from the house before their family stirred, it would be too stressful of a day already.

Bracing my self on the sides of the house, I jumped. Years of practice bought me a graceful landing and hit the ground running. The fields between our houses would be empty this early on a reaping day. It was suppose to be a holiday, not that anyone saw it that way. I kicked a small rock on the well-worn path home, trying to walk off the layers of anxiety. 

For the time of year the over cast day was unusual, but still it fit the mood. My stomach churned as it so often did on days like this. The nerves canceled out even a longing for a good meal. Not that there was much of one that I could afford myself anyway. The last thing I wanted was to lose the precious contents of a good meal to a sick stomach. If we survived the reaping unscathed then we could have a celebratory dinner under the apples trees. If not… well I suppose dinner would be the last of my concerns then. 

My own house was just a quiet as the rest of the slum. After collecting fresh water it didn’t take me long to wash off in the small basin of water and dress for the day. Heading towards the town center, I caught up to the twins. 

 

——————————————

 

”Happy Hunger Games,” I said, but my tone was anything but celebratory. Theo’s right hand caught my shoulder and he pushed. As I caught my balance I laughed, we would play like always but I could still feel the tight knot of nerves tangling ever more dense in the pit of my stomach. 

We walked towards the dark ceremonies; I was in the center, a twin holding a hand on either side. I was grateful for the balance. Each palm pressed into mine felt like a tether anchoring my to some stable line then the throws of the coming storm. I couldn’t know if I served to be any comfort to them, but all the same I hoped. In the square, countless children lined up for the slaughter. As Eleven was so large there were many in the age range for tribute eligibility. It was a fact that I had always found comforting, it made the chances that it would be my own name pulled even slimmer. It helped that the majority had to take tessera so that hardly effected the odds. Still I knew someones name would come up for that bowl in the next hour, and likely or no it could be one I knew all too well. 

I weaved through the crowd towards our age group. The sick thought that this might be the very last time we all stood hand in hand made me feel ill. I hated how easy it was for my mind to betray me today. Those around me all stood in the same silence I did. No one dared to move and hardly let out light breaths. It was as tho even the act of existing might tip the odds against you. 

The Capitol escort was already on the stage. He droned out words I had heard often enough to comment to memory, but could bring myself to care about in the slightest. They were, after all, a thinly vialed lie formed into propaganda I would never embrace. I could see the truth, the shackles every citizen in Panam wore, servitude to the Capitol elite. 

“Theo Devereaux,” The name called snapped my mind back. In an instant my heart sank into my gut. Not him. ‘Oh please not him.’ My mind began to race. I hoped beyond everything that someone, anyone but his twin, would volunteer, take his place when the time came so that our home wouldn’t be broken. It was something that stood no chance of coming to be but I looked around in a desperate state. 

There were so few eleven victors, that most of us saw the games as the death sentence they were. My eyes inadvertently caught Tavish’s, and I longed to dredge up the strength to mouth reassuring words. There was nothing I could do to spare him, either of them, save for volunteering myself. Theo would never forgive me, but at least both the boys I loved would survive. I waiting, know I was ready to take Theo’s place.

“Dadga Llewellyn,” the district escort shouted so the whole square could hear. It took several seconds before it sunk in that it was my name that had been called. My head snapped back towards the stage, I had been too lost in my plan to save Theo that I forgot I too was at stake, that I was still in the reaping myself. 

When the reality of it hit, real panic coursed through my veins. In the matter of five minutes my whole world was thrown on it’s head. Heavy footed I slogged to the stage. The crowd parted around as if I had the plague, like being a tribute might be contagious. 

On stage, I turned and faced Theo. Behind his eyes I could see the raw sadness, but that only came from years of staring into them. The fire that burn so brightly, a fire for rebellion, that was far brighter. I knew I didn’t mirror the sentiment. A burning filled me chest and up my throat. Bile threaten to rise up, to make me sick, but I swallowed down. I knew this, even the simple act of keeping my cool here, was life or death. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder. How could we be thrown together and expected to fight to the death?

The next half hour was a blur. I was pushed through a set of double doors, and then into a car. I tripped over my own feet, my dizzy head spinning to keep up. Each heavy lidded blink revealed a new set of unfamiliar faces was before me. In the back of my mind, or maybe it is only with the clarity hindsight allows, I knew I was headed to the train station just south of the main district square. 

Once in the holding area, I fell apart. I wouldn’t see Theo again until we got to the train, but the next few hours wouldn’t be alone. My mother clung to me weeping until until the guards force my parents from the room. There had been know words of wisdom from my father. No one said it, but the chance for me to win was devastatingly slim, any false hope now would only make me seemingly inevitable death harder to handle. 

Almost as soon as the room was empty I heard the knob turning again. Even if Theo wasn’t in the other room as a tribute I would have known it was Tavish. It was mannerisms and small gestures that one did and the other did not. Tavish walked softer, like he was dancing on clouds. He was tender, and light. In that moment I knew that if either of the twins stood even a sliver of a chance of getting home it was Theo. 

Tavish collapsed onto the couch next to me. Without hesitation I wrapped my arms around him. I would be the one to comfort Tavish, even if it was me that would be facing death. Still Tavish was losing someone no matter how things turned out. His world would never be the same even without having to step foot into the arena himself. 

After a few minutes in which I just held him, he finally said “I know it can’t be both of you,” he paused for a second “But it has to be one of you. I couldn’t bear losing you both.” With that I felt my tenuous hold slipping. I couldn’t find the words to say so I simply nodded. In truth I would do everything in my power to make sure that was true.


	2. Dark games ahead

Everyone that knew us would know how unfortunate of a choice this year’s reaping had been. As we were escorted to the Capitol train the faces that were familiar held a pain I could see too clearly. Two friends would enter the arena that only one could leave. I knew from the first moment my brain stopped spinning that I could never kill Theo, if that wasn’t already painfully obvious. Nothing in the world could turn me against my own heart.

The doors slid closed behind us and I peered out for a last glimpse at home. I wanted to break down, but I wouldn’t. A chill hand found the small of his back. “He’ll be okay,” Theo whispered. I bit my lower lip slightly and turned to my life long friend, one of the two people in the world that I loved with my whole heart. 

“It wasn’t him I was worried about,” I lied, though it still held some truth. I knew none of us would ever really be okay again, no matter who made it out as the victor of the sixty eighth annual Hunger Games. 

Upon arriving in the Capitol, the stylists took over. I was not one to fuss over my appearance. Still, I wasn’t a fan of being made into a piece of meat for the men and women of the Capitol to drool over. In the back of my mind I knew it could only help my cause to have them fawning over me, but it didn’t make me want the experience any more. The tangle of emotions became self preservation and the thin veil of dignity I still had left wrestling around in my brain. Not that it would matter much which won, the Capital had me and that was that. 

The stylists seemed to dance around my naked body, and it took everything I had to fight the urge to cover myself. My body was dyed a pale green -which I was assured was temporary unlike the bright pink that cover one of stylist’s body- and it held flecks of silver like dew on morning grass. I kept waiting for the costume to be placed on me, but clothes never came. Soon I was been ushered into a second dressing area and foliage was being placed to cover only the most vital portions of my body. 

I was then more or less pushed into what seemed to be a paddock full of twelve chariots. All eyes found me, but the green covered up any blush that heated my face. It wasn’t until I saw Theo that real emotion began to settle back in over the shock of being exposed all most fully to all the other tributes. Despite the scowl on his face, he was radiant. That was until I remembered that all of Panem would be laying eyes on him, on us both, in a matter of moments. His stylist wore a distinct purpling bruise across his left shoulder, but Theo dominated my line of sight. 

The dopey stare I had held with my first glance were replaced by a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. The pressure of my nails digging into my palms made small crescent shaped groves. We both wore matching outfits, if you could even call it that. The muscles from years of hard work were on display. The world could not see him like this, he was not public property to be ogled and ultimately bought. I had come to accept that I was not my own any more, but it burned like acid in my gut knowing I had no control over keeping him from the same fate. 

I was the first to be forced into the chariot, and even with the building rage I still offered my hand to Theo. A hand I would not release for the duration of the ride. “I hate this,” I choked.

I knew Theo did too, but he only said “Well, you’re gorgeous,” companied with a sideways smile. As soon as we were set into motion, brought forth to the waiting crowd, a roar erupted. We were objects of desire put on display. I had seen this with victors before, Finnick Odair came to mind. The Capitol does like to lust after young bodies. 

It didn’t take long for me to decided how I would ‘play the game’. My second realization came the night after the tributes parade. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I made it home while Theo didn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t hold value in my own life, but I was beginning to see my death as an inevitability. In the years of recent memory, eleven hadn’t been real contenders in the games. Still if I put all my effort to keeping Theo alive maybe I could be successful. Maybe the twins I had loved for the better part of my life would both be safe. 

Still I wasn’t going to tell Theo that, because he wouldn’t want me to sacrifice myself. Our ferocity was too intense to allow heads to butt now, it would be a fight for the end or I would slip away and simply never return once Theo could win on his own. 

Even though I had accepted that I would never see home again, and that our trio had come to an end, Tavish was never far from my thoughts. At night Theo and I still sleep side by side, and would until the end. It was never the same without one twin on either side. It was when Theo was working with their escort on his interview(advice he would never take), that I knew what I had to do. 

Sitting at the small desk the Capitol had supplied in my room, I wrote to Tavish, a letter that would either go back with Theo, or on my dead body. Tavish would get it one way or another. It was last goodbyes, and things I had wished I told him in person.

 

_Dear Tavish,_

_I never told you enough how much you mean to me. You and you alone kept Theo and me from destroying us all. I can never thank you for the wonderful life you gave me, but please hear me when I say you can do better than a degenerate like me. I want you go on, to be happy, all along that’s all I’ve ever wanted for either of you. The most selfish thing I ever did was love you both, and I still do. I love you Tavish, I always have. At least now I am secure in knowing that, that love with live on, that I will do everything I can to keep you both safe. If Theo didn’’t make it, which makes me sick to even think about, I hope you don’t hate me, but know that I fought for him to the bitter end. Though if I know my Tavish you watched no matter how much it hurt. What I wouldn’t give to be climbing trees and causing trouble in district eleven with you again. I sit here, waiting for the games, a broken boy trying to be a man. If it’s the last thing I do, and I suppose it will be, I will send him home to you, it had to be one of us right?_

_With all the love my heart can manage,  
Dagda_

In the interviews, I played the sweet farm boy, someone relatable and down to earth. I wanted viewers to like me, because the more support I got, the better Theo’s chance. It wasn’t a hard role to play, because other than hiding my disdain for the Capitol it was true. It was also a role that Caesar could so easily play off of. 

The lights and crowd were overbearing but I put on a winning smile, the one that I could only muster with thoughts of home, and held my head high. This year Caesar wore a deep red wig that almost too closely resembled the blood that would soon cover the arena. It was unnerving to say the least, but I knew if I was to stand any chance at all, if I was to send Theo home, the Capitol must love me. 

“So what’s it been like coming to the Capitol?” Caesar asked.

I beamed singing the praises of the city I hated, how it was so different from home, how I “Just can’t make heads of tails of it.”

“Well what is home like then my boy?” this was it, the things I didn’t want to tell. Some things should be sacred, but even when all you have left is death, the Capitol will take your past too. I had seen it before, wondered why the tributes year after year offered up the stories of their home, and hated them for it. I hadn’t really understood that is was a dieing attempt to salvage those memories, the things they held most dear. 

“I didn’t leave it all behind,” I responded, leaving the crowd in confusion. “My district partner, he…” I stammering unintentionally. “He and his twin they are my best friends,” I continued telling small snips to highlight the heart wrenching reality of what I stood to lose. It was enough to gain the tender hearted citizens, the ones that pulled for the tributes with beautiful back stories. “I promised Tavish, one of us will come home,” the words were as much for Tavish himself as for Panem. It was a promise I refused to break. Even now I wouldn’t admit that it was Theo I intend to be crowded victor, but my verve was there none the less. 

I showed true valor and determination. Those were qualities sponsors looked for. It was a well planned strategy, one my mentor agreed on. Theo on the other hand was a open flame. He did little to repress his sharp tongue, and I watched in horror at the crowd’s reaction. Now it would take all I had to save Theo from himself. 

I spent much of my time in during training learning to throw an axe, a talent I seemed a natural fit for. After all the years of hard labor my body was a well tuned machine. A few days in, my mentor informed me that the careers had offered an alliance, one I would refuse. It would seem that they thought me enough of a threat to what me close. Still I wouldn’t go without Theo, and he wasn’t invented. Even then, I wouldn’t have put him in such close proximity to our supposed biggest danger. In my mind, any benefits weren’t worth the risk.


	3. Aim your arrows high

The begin of the games were hardly more than a blur. We knew enough of plant life to not need to fight for food in the bloodbath. Lucky a small pile of weapons including an axe had been only a few feet from my platform. I quickly grabbed the axe that was sure to be my life line and stuck a small knife in the straps of my boot. 

Theo was suppose to run for it, meet in the closest cover he could find. Though he had agreed to just run, I worried what last minute move he would decide upon. For now though all I could control was the speed with which I found my partner. 

Just before I was able to duck and run for cover another tribute collided into me. It surely wasn’t a fight the other boy was planning on, but now face to face with me he wasn’t running. 

Fight or flight? If I ran it would lead this boy straight to Theo. This was the moment of truth, would I be able to fight to the death. The boy lunged forward and my reaction was instant. It colored the reasons why the Careers had wanted me in an alliance. 

The axe caught in the tributes ribs, as the heated blood spilled over my hands. I couldn’t dwell on it long, though inside I was screaming. The body slipped to the ground and I ran for the only place I could see that Theo would think was safe, a expansive wheat field filled the rubble of several houses. 

The arena appeared to be modeled in the image of the district ruins, and that could only be the outskirts of our home. Sure enough I found Theo knelling just inside the doorway of an almost completely collapsed mill house. 

The familiar surroundings gave us an edge. The fighting, when it happened, came on our terms. The days blurred into weeks, and we fell into a disillusionment that we could win. Though ‘we’ was never even a possibility. Tribute after dead tribute in the sky made it hard for me to keep track of who was left, who was the last remaining threat. I was shocked to see a large number of the careers die out less than a week in, I didn’t know why but I thanked my luck that it would be easier to protect my heart. 

“You smell like home, Dagda,” Theo said as he pushed his pale skin, so unusual in their district, closer to mine. By home he could only mean the earthy scent that seemed to cling to me no matter how much I had scrubbed in the Capitol shower. Still by the look on Theo’s face, I could tell it was a comforting thing, so I couldn’t help but be thankfully for my apparently porous nature. 

Of the remaining tributes that I was sure were still here was the boy in the trees, from three, though I couldn’t remember his name. The relatively young tribute wouldn’t come after us like the careers, but he was still a threat. This was due to the fact that it would be silent death and that would be hard to protect Theo from. Even more than death from above, the single career left would pose a problem. He was huge, and brutal. In the flight from the cornucopia I was sure I had seen the beast of a boy literally rip apart a small girl from three. 

More often than not, the crazy ones like him didn’t win, and I hoped a ‘natural’ disaster would take him out like the ones from previous games. Honestly, I didn’t think I would stand much of a chance if that wasn’t the case. The sun had set, as we sat by our makeshift camp site. It was too late in the games to have a fire. It wasn’t worth the risk of drawing any remaining tributes right to us. We had heard at least three canons today, but I had lost track of how many that meant was left. Soon the faces in the sky would show if any of those I feared had been among the tributes lost. 

We didn’t have to wait long for the Capitol anthem to play. The first face was that of the archer boy in the trees, followed by none other that the beast of a tribute I had been the most worried about. The other two faces hardly registered as I dealt with his mental elation. Not even that it had been four faces and not three. At least not until Theo spoke to highlight the meaning. “It’s just us,” he said somberly. 

That was enough to snap me back. My hands were already shaking, because that could only mean one thing. “Are you sure?” but I didn’t have to ask. I could feel the shift in the air. What now? I knew I would have to be strong enough to let Theo kill him, which he wasn’t likely to do, or kill myself. 

There was a long silence “Are you going to leave?” he asked. My eyes trailed to his. “I’m not going anywhere,” my tone was still warm, as if nothing had changed, even though nothing could ever be the same. “You‘re safe now,” I said almost to myself. My right arm was still placed softly around his waist. It had been to keep him warm, but in light of the recent news it felt like an anchor holding me to the earth. By dawn, I would be gone and he would be one step closer to home. I couldn’t bring myself to fear his death when it had been what I was planning all along. For a moment I wondered how this whole scenario read to the views all across Panem, and more importantly what Tavish was thinking. He had to know that it would be one of them now, but also that he was inevitable about to watch someone’s death. Inside I wished I could tell him to turn away, that I was fine and Theo would be home soon. Yet doing that would undermine my strategy so I kept my lips sealed. 

A crystal clear scream rang through the tree, Tavish, but it couldn’t be. Yet before I could do anything, Theo had jerked himself from my arms and towards the sound that was impossibly similar to his twin. “Theo wait!” I yelled clawing my way towards him. It would be a trap, I could see that, but why couldn’t he. 

It dawned on me too late that he did, and it was him that was sacrificing himself for me. A large black blur bolted from the thicket to his left. Instantly the axe in my hand and went flying. Using my momentum I launched himself between him and the creature. Razor sharp claws slash through the skin and muscle in my chest. It would seem that I would get my way after all, and he wouldn’t have to live with the weight of causing my death. The pain was searing, easily most terrible thing I could imagine. I wished for the end, an end that wouldn’t come fast enough. Almost as soon as it started the large cat-like mutt went limp in my arms. Theo had clearly plunged his short bladed sword into it’s heart. I pushed the animal to the side and in doing so felt how severe the wounds were. It would take hours to die this way, slowing bleeding out, but all the Capitol would have to do is wait and they would have their victor. It would be an awful death, but at least I would have a chance at a good bye, to them both. The world was blurry but I still saw him slump to my side. 

“Dagda?… Dagda?!?” he said touching his cool hands to my cheek. In our early teens I had always teased him, called him the ‘Ice King’. To which he would place his icy hands on my too hot chest. I had never imagined I would welcome the chill shock, it was refreshing. 

“I’m still here,” I managed to cough out, as a small trail of blood ran down my cheek. 

“It‘s not going to end like this,” he stated with all the tenacity I knew he had. “Because I promised Tavish, and only one of us can go home,” his voice was ragged, his breathing labored “And it has to be you Dadga.” His hand found my face. “We both love you… I love you, and you can take care of each other,” The moister of his tears dropped and mingled with mine. His words made no sense, I was dieing after all, it wasn’t a matter of luck any longer it was just a matter of time. 

My body sank into the ground as his arms left me. Not wanting my last moments to be spent alone, I opened his eyes to find out what he was doing. The wounds had left me immobile, and I was stuck frozen to watch as he pulled the dagger from my boot and plunged it into his chest. The scream that left my lips was hardly human. 

“NO!! YOU could have taken care of her. I can’t I’m not that strong……” the fibers of self that held me together were unraveling more quickly than I could keep up with. “It was suppose to be you.. It was suppose to be you,” despite my panic his expression stayed calm as he grew more pale. 

“It was always going to be you and Tavish, and …” he cut off in a moan as blood soaked, expanding too rapidly from the wound. All the Capitol would have to do was wait and they would have their victor.


	4. Heavy is the crown

It wasn’t suppose to end this way, against all odds Theo had turned the tables on me. It was something I should have expected, because it was such a Theo thing to do. I lay on the cold hospital gurney and couldn’t help but be reminded of his freezing touch. The drugs were too thick in my mind and veins for my thoughts to become too intense. Even still I felt more like a shell of myself. I couldn’t remember being pulled from the arena, the announcement that named me victor, or the last glance at the love that sacrifice had stolen. Every time I tried the blackness over whelmed me drawing my broken mind deep within it’s self. It could have been days or weeks later and I wouldn’t have been able to tell you edge wise. All I knew was that when I finally awoke from the dreamless sleep, I was more alone than I ever had been. I had slept by myself for the first time in years, but it wasn’t by choice or even without force. His mentor sauntered in “Your fans await.” 

I scoffed “Why would I have fans?” but got no verbal answer. The hours that followed were unbearable, and the promise that soon I would be headed home, towards all I had left, was what keep me upright. I couldn’t bring himself to put up a show for the crowd as I watched the recap of the games. My face was hollow at times and vividly painted with pain in others. It truth the whole debacle sicken me. I refused to play the part of the sweet boy from eleven, instead I took on the sullen yet stoic beat that Theo had shown in his interview. Each life I took seemed in vain now, and they all hung heavily on me. The death of the boy from three was particularly terrible, and at the hands of the large career I had spent most of my arena time worried about. The images stained my thoughts like the bright red blood of my fellow yet not fallen tributes. It must have been the reason for the Gamemakers saw to it that the mad man didn’t win. He has used the rubble to beat the boy to a plump before ending his life. It was something I could only describe as murder. 

It wasn’t the tributes I hated for it. The Capitol was to blame, for they were the reason each of them had died. And they were why I would go home to Tavish unable to return his bother. Despite the devotion I had shown to Theo, and that in it’s self could be reason to cause Snow to worry, it was the madness the lapped behind my eyes that caused the president to see me as safe. Contempt and fear should have been held for such a rebellious victor, but all that was hidden by fresh grief. Snow couldn’t know the games played by Theo, Tavish, and myself, or that even under the pain caused by the arena that same fire still burned. 

A broken boy Snow could present to the crowd couldn’t be a threat even with my endearing plight inside the arena. Losing Theo had left me shattered, as it would the whole of Panem, the Capitol citizens would see the bright story of the victor returned to his childhood sweetheart, despite the loss of his brother, but the Districts would see a boy who lost everything much like they had. This would beat them down, or so the snake eyed man thought. He couldn’t see that Theo’s death would eventually light a fire storm inside a boy who already hated the Capitol so. Even still such hatred with no outlet wouldn’t have much of an effect 

On the train home I sat on the too-plush bed with my legs pressed to my scared chest (as my mentor had insisted that despite the ability to get rid my body of the scars they would be a distinguishing mark for a victor). I couldn’t sleep, not without Tavish, Theo, or some form of sedative. By the time I arrived home I had only found a few hours of anything close to sleep in a week. Those hours had only been gifted to me after I nearly drown myself in drinks far beyond my years. My escort was appalled, commenting that if I wasn’t careful I could become like that awful Hamitch from twelve. I couldn’t bring myself to care, the moments in drunken stupor were the only time I could separate myself from the horror my life had become. I stumbled off the train, catching a few giggles from the Capitol attendants, and there was my shining light waiting to catch me. 

The essence of Tavish filled me as I wrapped my arms around the twin I had been able to keep safe. We were each other’s world now. “You smell like home,” I muttered, repeating Theo’s words softly in his ear. Now I could see why Theo had made the choice to send me home, it was selfless but we held the only chance. Tavish and I together they held a hope for happiness. Not just that, but a hope for revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading and I hope you have enjoyed it. I know at the very start of this all I introduced myself but I failed to mention that I am a gay trans man. That is a big reason why I feel so compelled to share queer stories with you all. I would like to take a moment to ask for your help. As of now, I am working towards my top surgury. Ig you feel you would like to donate the link is http://www.gofundme.com/d3b6p4
> 
> Please don't feel like you have to. If you would like to help in another way spread the word and my stories (or even just reach out to me on one of my social media links found and that beginning of the fic) and hey, thanks!


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